Lonely At The Top - 3. Chapter 3

“Hey Jimmy!” Nathan raised his hand to his friend with a wide grin, “How you doin’, man?”

“Hey, Nate,” Jimmy smiled, but Nathan didn’t miss the slight delay in his old friend’s greeting, and he frowned slightly. “What’s up?” Nathan looked past his friend to see Clem’s big black and dusty Ford truck pulled up to the curb, and watched as Clem, Ashlee, and two other people he vaguely recognised as their friends from Louisiana, climbed out and with a glance head into the diner ahead of Jimmy. Nathan knew instantly, he would be going somewhere else to find his lunch.

“Not much; the horse sale went well. I thought maybe some of the guys might be around tomorrow night to have a bit of a drink and such.”

“Um…” Jimmy hesitated.

“I’ll bring a keg out to the river and we’ll jus’ have a drink, eh? It’ll be like being back in high school.”

“High school was ten years ago Nate.”

“Your point bein’?” Nathan arched an eyebrow at his friend. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t just left school and continued being outstanding at throwing a party in a field.

“I’m sorry Nate.” Nathan didn’t say anything into the obvious gap Jimmy left at the end of his sentence. “Look, you ain’t been around much, an’ I dunno if the guys would come out to your place for a rowdy sort of tailgate party anymore.”

“What?” Nate scowled, “What, do you mean ‘the guys won’t come’ because fuckin’ Clem Linton an’ his girly-boy won’t be there?”

Jimmy bit back whatever he’d been about to say, and Nathan could feel the tension twang in the air like a rubber band.

“We all like Ashlee,” Jimmy said eventually, “he’s a good guy, he makes Clem happy, and it’s a done deal now – they bought a farm together for Christ’s sake! You’ve jus’ gotta let it go Nathan.”

“Whatever,” Nathan spun on his heel, “never-fuckin’-mind.” Just as he was about to walk away, Jimmy spoke again, his voice unusually quiet.

“Don’t go burnin’ all your bridges Nate; it’s a long swim across that river.”

Nathan’s shoulders bristled with anger, but he didn’t turn around; instead simply shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and stalked back to his truck. Five phone calls and five bullshit excuses later, Nathan was quite seriously considering smashing his cell phone into smithereens, but he resisted. Going shopping for a new one was going to be about as much fun and hassle as separating a new foal and mom for the first time, and no amount of breaking-things satisfaction was going to be worth the bother. Instead he stopped by the liquor store on the way out of town and bought enough beer to put Cayman into a state of torpor, and drove home planning the following day’s hangover.

*

Nathan didn’t like the club from the moment he stepped in. It was a lot like most clubs in that respect, because even the place where he had met Taylor had been full of twinks in eyeliner, fancy drinks, and music that required the presence of a twirling disc-jockey with blue and purple hair. Nathan liked bars which played NFL games and showed PBR during the main season, where a man could sit and get a beer, and not have to talk shit to anyone if he didn’t want to. Unfortunately the chance of scoring in such a place was literally zero, because the only person who frequented those kinds of bars Nathan had ever been able to make out with had been Clem, and even then Nathan had needed to drag the young man in by his shirtsleeve. This club was a particularly bad sort, with flashy lights and alcohol only served in stupid glasses, but a large portion of the clientele were topless, and Nathan didn’t mind so much what strange hair style a tanned and well-muscled torso belonged to.

Nathan drank his bourbon neat and stood by the bar, his black felt Stetson pulled down low over his eyes, and glared out from under it at the sea of writhing bodies. His crotch had already taken notice of his surroundings, but Nathan hated that everywhere he looked his brain threw images of Taylor at him. He had never promised the other man anything, deliberately so, and their first sober conversation had been about their total lack of commitment to each other. The fact Nathan had returned to his apartment, and continued doing so for four months wasn’t technically relevant, and Nathan agreed with his erection, he should be much more interested in the really very hot young man standing at the bar who was wearing nothing but skin tight blue jeans and the waistband of a pair of bright orange boxer shorts. Nathan smiled at him, and the boy grinned back.

“Well hey, Cowboy.”

Nathan tipped his hat ever so slightly and grinned. Even in the middle of Texas, people in Austin were sort of surprised to see him in his heavy western boots and wide brimmed hat in the middle of what Nathan supposed was a rather hip and modern club: there were enough neon lights to suggest as much. Nathan figured that he may as well play up to the stereotype, after all everyone else seemed to be playing some part or other, though Nathan had no idea what some of them might be portraying.

“Howdy.”

“Not seen you here before; are you new in town?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Nathan admitted grudgingly.

The young man with the perfect tan wasn’t anything like Nathan’s usual type; not that he was unattractive. Nathan couldn’t easily imagine ever sharing a beer with someone like him, or an evening at the rodeo, and he wondered if red dirt dust looked as good on him as his airbrushed tan. But they were in the city, and Nathan found himself lost in a very fast paced conversation, most of which he couldn’t hear over the bass beat of the music. Instead he focused on the smiling shape of the young man’s lips as he spoke, and nodded along whenever his response seemed to be required. When the music next changed, the young man clapped excitedly, and bounced out of his seat, and even though Nathan’s only decent dancing skills lay in his ability to complete a quick-step without treading on anyone’s toes, his libido made him follow the really tanned young man out onto the floor. Other people apparently experienced music in a different way, because his new companion either knew how to dance or was also part snake, and Nathan didn’t want to look away from the sinuous and rhythmic way he moved his hips. It was most inspiring. But he didn’t know how to dance, and so to Nathan the next best thing was to place his hands firmly over the young man’s hips and bring his skin-tight denim clad ass up against his crotch. To his surprise, his companion twisted out of his hands with a sharp movement.

“What are you doin’?”

“I thought tha’ was kinda obvious,” Nathan smirked. The young man wasn’t standing very far away, the dance floor didn’t allow it, and Nathan ran his fingers down the young man’s spine, and reached lower for his pert little rear. This time the young man slapped his hand away, and Nathan had no trouble hearing him over the music, because he’d only ever heard that tone once before.

“Boundaries, dude! Just ‘cause I smile at you does not mean you can grab my ass!”

Nathan stepped back, and instantly bumped into someone. He glanced up between apologies to find the tanned young man was still waiting for a response, and Nathan couldn’t think of a single reasonable thing to say to him. The tone of voice, the indignation, the same stern glare; and it was like none of the past three and a half years had ever happened. Nathan spun on his heels, bashed into someone else he didn’t even see, and fled without apologising.

He’d had two drinks, but that didn’t matter nearly as much as getting away. Nathan pulled himself up into the cab of his super shiny truck and floored the gas pedal. He knew how to get to Taylor’s fancy apartment from pretty much anywhere in the city, and Nathan barely had to look at the road as he drove. It was a particular advantage, because Nathan could hear nothing beyond the frantic thumping of his heart and the voice of the boy in the club, who had somehow managed to sound exactly like Clem had done the day he’d come to the ranch, and Nathan had known they were through forever. Nathan could deal with his father’s irrational rage and perverse anger well enough, but he wasn’t used to that tone of disappointment coming from anyone else.

“It’s me.”

“Nate?” Taylor’s voice sounded sort of worried on the other end of the speaker system, “it’s really late.”

“I know,” Nathan scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets, “it’s fuckin’ cold too. Will you let me in already?”

There was a long moment of radio silence, and just as Nathan was seriously starting to consider walking away, the buzzer sounded and he shouldered his way through the door before stalking across the entrance hall with its fancy chequered floor. Taylor opened his apartment door as Nathan got there, and he wasted no time in pulling the other man up against his chest, running his fingers through Taylor’s thick hair and invading him with his tongue. Taylor made a noise of surprise and shock, but Nathan overrode his token resistance as he stepped into the house, bringing Taylor with him, and continued to ravage his lover.

“Nate…” Taylor tried to step away from him, but Nathan held him tight and pulled his pyjamas askew, “c’mon, cowboy; let go…”

Nathan growled, spun Taylor around and worked his hand into his lover’s underwear and probed his firm tender flesh. In the week they hadn’t seen each other, Nathan had missed the human contact of the other man. He had also missed Taylor’s ready smile and his easy company, but that wasn’t what played on his mind as he felt his partner up hurriedly. In Nathan’s mind, an image solidified of the two of them fucking with reckless abandon, and the big cowboy wanted to get to it as quickly as possible. Taylor though, had other ideas.

“Nate, stop!”

“No,” Nathan growled against the back of his neck, holding onto his lover whilst undoing his own jeans. The stud buttons slipped through his thick fingers and he scowled.

“Nathan!” Taylor used his shoulders and threw the cowboy off his back, turned, and instantly held both hands out to keep Nathan away. Nathan grabbed his wrist anyway, and a moment later received a slap around the head that made his vision blur for a moment. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Nathan reached out to him again, but Taylor flinched away like he was scared of the big man, and Nathan recognised the movement. Clem had been scared of him and had tried to get away, but Nathan had gone after him anyway. Without a conscious effort to stay upright, Nathan staggered, knocked into the breakfast bar and slid to the floor. Taylor vanished from his line of sight, and just as Nathan thought he was about to spend the night alone on the hard tile flooring, the beautiful man reappeared with a large glass of water and sat down in front of him as he handed it over.

“Drink.”

Nathan obeyed the instruction instantly.

“Now, what the fuck was that all about?”

“I missed you.”

“You got a funny way of showin’ it, cowboy. When I say ‘no’, I bloody well mean it.”

Nathan took a deep breath, but he didn’t feel any better than he had. His mind felt crushed, weighed down by all his anger and resentment, and his father’s hatred and disappointment; it was hard to feel anything good through the thick layer of independence he’d built up around his heart. But even though Taylor was watching him closely, all Nathan could see was Clem’s blue eyes, full of pain and scared to death about what was happening.

“I raped my boyfriend.”

Taylor blinked twice, frowned, and as he shifted his weight, Nathan simply held out his palm without touching him, silently begging him not to go.

“Three years ago,” Nathan explained hollowly, “I hurt him.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew I was going to lose him.”

“Oh, Nate…”

To Nathan’s surprise, Taylor did not sound angry, nor did he get up and walk away or demand Nathan leave his house. Instead, he shuffled closer, reached out, and brushed Nathan’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. Not until he saw the wetness did Nathan realise he was crying. His vision blurred, his lungs refused to work for a moment before he took in a huge gulping breath, and by then he could not stop the torrent of tears from streaming down his cheeks. Nathan pulled his knees up to his chest, pressed his face against the denim and sobbed uncontrollably. He could not remember the last time he had cried.

The emotional outpouring was exhausting; Nathan had forgotten how much it physically hurt to cry for so long. His lungs ached, his throat was raw, and his eyes stung, but by the time he had finished crying, Nathan found Taylor’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he leant into the strength of the other man. Nathan rubbed his eyes, and stared up at the ceiling as he spoke.

“I knew I was losing him: he was so unhappy with the way we were.” Nathan swallowed the next sob that rose in his throat, “I meant to hurt him.”

“Nate?”

“I couldn’t-,” Nathan clenched his fist, pressing his blunt nails into his palm until it hurt, and then released the tension slowly. “I couldn’t let him be stronger than me.”

Taylor stroked his hair softly, and Nathan didn’t have any desire left to try and stop the other man from comforting him. It felt nice, and Nathan found himself wondering why he thought it was OK to brush and pet a horse, but not a man. When he reached for Taylor, the beautiful man smiled and kissed his palm. It was the softest gesture Nathan had ever known.

“What happened to him? Do you know him still?”

“Yeah, I mean, we don’t speak: ever. He bought a ranch with his ‘boyfriend’,” Nathan heard himself being derisive about Ashlee even before he’d finished speaking, and wanted to kick himself for sounding exactly like his father. “Sorry: I never liked him – for all the wrong reasons. He’s really girly… we’ve never had an actual conversation though.”

“I’m not sure anyone actually likes their ex’s new partners,” Taylor smiled softly. “C’mon cowboy, it’s really late.” Taylor took his hand and hauled them both up to their feet. Nathan felt unbalanced, unstable, and simply ran on autopilot as Taylor moved through the apartment. He’d been using a ‘spare’ toothbrush at Taylor’s for months, so Nathan brushed his teeth and left his clothes in a pile by the bed. The other man flipped off the light and slipped in beside him.

Nathan lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, listening to Taylor’s breathing slow down and even out as he fell asleep again. The big cowboy tried to blink slowly and make himself drift off, but sleep didn’t come, and Nathan turned to watch his lover dreaming. Taylor lay on his side, one arm curled up under his pillow and head, and even asleep he looked sleek and clean, masculine and strong. Nathan had never watched anyone else sleep before, because when he woke up first he always used the extra time to take advantage of his partner. Nathan had done almost exactly what Taylor had started to do to him the morning after David’s funeral, and Nathan suddenly realised how lucky he was that no one had tried to sock him in the jaw for his behaviour. He took a deep breath and found himself yawning, and with the small private resolution that he would not continue to be as intolerant as his father, Nathan fell asleep.

*

“Yeah, that’s what he said,” there was a pause, during which Nathan blinked, and tried to resist the urge to sleep, “I dunno; I think it was a while ago. He seems really torn up by it though.”

Nathan shook his head gently and pulled himself out of unconsciousness, if not actually out of the bed, and yawned into his hand as the world came into focus. Taylor was not in bed beside him, and Nathan scanned the half-dark room as he tried to find Taylor’s voice. He wasn’t there, but from the light and shapes moving through the partly open bedroom door, Nathan figured that his lover was out there. The long pauses suggested he was talking on the phone.

“No! C’mon Brody, I figured you’d give me a little more credit: of course he’s never done that to me. Jeez man, I do not let guys who attack me sleep in my bed.” Another pause, “well yeah, he’s still here. It’s early.” Taylor chuckled, “you’re all fucked up from working nights, bud. I just don’t know what to do.”

Nathan blinked. Taylor was discussing him on the phone with someone, and he had obviously told Brody the secret that Nathan had been carrying around for more than three years. Nathan buried his face in his pillow and clenched his jaw, unsure if he wanted to scream, yell, or burst into tears again. The pillow smelt of Taylor, of clean cotton and the sea spray shampoo he was fond of that came in a fancy bottle and Nathan never ever went near, and Nathan found the scent crawled up through his brain and made him smile. It wasn’t just familiar; it was good too, and Nathan wondered when he’d allowed himself to get sentimental over lingering one night stands.

“I know, I know… I didn’t sign up for this. We’re just ‘buddies’ y’know?” Taylor paused, “I’m not gonna walk away from him Brody; what kind of guy would I be if I did?”

Nathan climbed out of the bed and took the top sheet to wrap around his hips. He had made it to the open door when he heard the smile in Taylor’s voice. The other man stood in his sweats in the open kitchen, his cell against his ear, and when he saw Nathan, he gestured him forwards. Nathan went to him quickly, and put his arm around Taylor’s waist as he finished up his call.

“You would say that Brody. He’s not a bad person,” Nathan found Taylor staring into his eyes as he spoke, and he had the feeling his soul was being examined, “I can tell.”